


Gettin' Smile

by meddowstaylor



Series: Gettin' Smile [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Brian is a bit sad and lost at the beginning, Fluff, M/M, Roger is just a sweet 19 year old bean full of sunshine, Tim is a great friend who gives good advice and sees through his friend, botanic metaphors, his plants suffer from it, like they are babies who only know each other for a months, the prompt is Childhood Sweethearts but of course I took it as very very early Smile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meddowstaylor/pseuds/meddowstaylor
Summary: “His plants are thriving, his tea is poured, the narrowness feels cozy - all the cliché things he is only now discovering at 21. He is scared and thrilled by the rush, and a bit in love. His rational side tells him he’s acting maybe a little gullible in believing things can change that fast for him. On a second look, the grey doesn’t completely dull down, it’s true, but there are specks of color there.”Both Roger and Brian feel a bit lost. They are supposed to go out and party, be excited about their new band, but they find themselves spending more and more time in a tiny apartment, making up for the fact they have only known each other for a month. Brian gets lost in discovering new smiles and taking note of them.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Series: Gettin' Smile [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585921
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62
Collections: Maylor Week





	Gettin' Smile

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt is "Childhood Sweethearts", but I knew I wanted to take the opportunity to write early Smile era because it's my weakness. They are 19 and 21 and they are wide-eye naive in some aspects, so I think the prompt still applies. It also ended up revolving a lot around different kinds of smiles, you know, to keep it on-brand. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it !

_smile /noun/  
Definition  
1: a facial expression in which the eyes brighten and the corners of the mouth curve slightly upward and which expresses especially amusement, pleasure, approval, or sometimes scorn  
2: a pleasant or encouraging appearance_

Brian is perched on the edge of the couch in the living room, his eyes tired but fixed on a point in the wall. He really isn’t staring at anything in particular, but he has been awake for two hours now and the small apartment feels suffocating, like it usually does in the early hours of the morning for him.

The plants his mother insisted he took are, as expected, dying a slow agonizing death. The leaves are brown and dry, and soon he’ll have to lie on the phone about their state. His mother had said he should be good with them since he was a vegetarian, but Brian saw no correlation in the statement then, and he still doesn’t see it now. Maybe it was a passive-aggressive way of saying _“you’re an adult now, let’s see how you handle taking care of another living form since I’ve been doing it for over twenty years now”_. Or maybe his fake smile the first time he got one as a present was a misleading sign that indicated he loved having to remember to water them and trim the branches and put them in sunlight in a tiny apartment that was perpetually grey-colored. 

Brian hears noise from outside, someone fussing with the key. The unreliable door gives in easily, and he is sure one of these days he is going to get mugged. He only hopes if they take away his books and his guitar, that the robbers at least take the poor plants with them, give them a better home. Tim lets himself in and Brian gets a distraction from his botanic ramblings. 

“That makes the second Friday in a row where you ditch me”, his friend declares, and takes up all the space left on the couch for himself. 

Brian wants to explain why they- why he had left the bar the night before, but the cloudy state his mind still is in is hard to shake off of. Tim knows his silences and doesn’t push him anymore, simply resorts to retelling the events after Brian’s departure, tray full of vodka shots included. He ties his story by stating the obvious, and the main reason he usually crashes at Brian’s apartment in the mornings: “I need coffee.”

A tousled figure appears dragging his feet on the floor, stops to look at the both of them and frowns, then heads straight for the kitchen.

“What is this, like the third time this week, Brian?” Tim asks him, and there’s humor in his voice, but thankfully devoid of his usual sarcasm. He seems genuinely curious, but knowing his friend there’s always an angle to his questions, so Brian doesn’t really answer him directly.

“His apartment really is small, do you know that?”

“Brian, he has claimed your bed”. Tim at least has the decency to lower his voice.

“Did you know their bathroom is all the way in the basement?” Brian defends himself. “And it really isn’t an issue, my bed wasn’t getting much use anyway…”

Tim’s eyebrows shoot up and get lost in his fringe that’s stuck to his forehead, and there’s a teasing smile in his lips. Brian feels a blush creep up to him, but plays it off rolling his eyes at the implication.

“Don’t be silly. I didn’t mean it like that. You know I rarely sleep more than four hours straight and he has like a dozen roommates,” he rushes to explain. “I really don’t mind.”

Roger comes out of the kitchen, now wearing Brian’s sweatshirt that was left in a chair when they both had stumbled in the night before. He is eating a bowl of cereals and flipping through a notebook. Brian takes in part by part of the sight, describes it in his head, tries to somehow find Roger’s presence there as odd as Tim finds it.

“Do you know there are 59 ways you can die whilst you get your wisdom teeth out?”, Roger asks, mouth half-full of soggy cereal.

Brian laughs and shakes his head, and before he can say anything Tim is turning to him in shock. “And he is eating my cereal?!”

“I don’t recall you ever making a run to the market to get it, mate” Brian replies, and he can see Roger smirking and flipping through his notes.

“Okay, but there was always cereal for me here and I’m guessing,” Tim turns to Roger, who is repressing a laugh now, “you ate all of it?”

“And every last drop of milk too” he devilishly smiles. Tim huffs in annoyance, but it’s only half-hearted now. Brian knows Tim likes Roger just as much as he does, but that the drummer’s addition to the band and to their friend’s group a month ago is still something he has to get used to. Fro the longest time it was just the two of them, after all. Tim usually laughs about it and says that since he wasn’t at Roger audition, Brian is the only one that was hexed and captivated. Roger always grins and find the suggestion amusing. 

Roger sits at the small table, where most of his college books are anyway. Maybe they were left there a week ago, when they had stayed up rearranging a song, their first official one together, or maybe Roger had dropped them two days ago, when the rain had chased them down from university and they had done nothing at all the afternoon, Brian playing his guitar and Roger eventually falling asleep with his head on Brian’s shoulder.

Now he sits there, and it’s the fourth or fifth or umpteenth time that he does so, but it doesn’t strike Brian as strange at all. He keeps his perpetual smile on, one that Brian has found doesn’t leave his face until after he fully wakes up. There’s still sleep in his eyes when he brings Tim a cup of coffee - no milk- a couple of minutes later, and when he rubs his eyes, yawns and blinks rapidly, for once his face resembles the 19-year-old he is. 

After more bickering about coffee and cereal and ditched parties, and little talk about setting up rehearsing time that week, Brian offers to walk Tim back to his place, and knows that when he’ll come back Roger is either going to be back in his bed or dozing off on the couch.

“I know what you’re worrying about”, Brian breaks the silence once they are at least five blocks away from his building. Tim has known him since high-school, and there is no need to say much when they are together.

“You do?”, Tim turns his head and examines Brian. 

“I won’t let this mess with the band, I promise”. Brian keeps his eyes forward, his legs guiding him on their own accord, the walk providing very little help in clearing his mind.

“The band? That’s not what I’m worried about”, Tim smiles at him, and it’s one of that brotherly smiles that he only seems to reserve for Brian. “It’s your heart I’m afraid it’s going to get messed with.”

Brian smiles at him because he doesn’t know what else to do. It is the kind of smile that he uses in lieu of speaking his mind and his fears - the kind of smile that makes him end up with three plants he has to take care of unwillingly. 

When he gets back to his apartment it’s later than he had intended. After getting an unusual hug from Tim, who held him close and then awkwardly patted him on the back, Brian had found himself walking in circles, somehow putting off returning. He had ended up stopping by the market to get cereals and a carton of milk. With the excuse of the groceries going bad if he kept on aimlessly wandering around in the strangely hot autumn day, he returned home.

When he opens the door Roger is indeed laying on the couch, Brian’s sweatshirt still on, steaming cup of tea in the table and writing in the datebook he usually carried around with him.

There’s a ray of sunshine providing him enough natural light, and finally, also to the plants. The brown remains, but the leaves don’t seem as withered.

Roger greets him with the brightest smile, and Brian really wants to ask him to stay the day. Instead, he puts his bag down and rattles the cereal box.

“Yeah, I totally ate the last ones on purpose”, Roger confesses, grinning and biting his tongue between his teeth. Brian goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge, stares at a sole apple on the shelf and closes the door again, having to stop himself from asking Roger to stay forever. He catalogs smiles in his head just to keep his mind occupied.

“I really like it here, Bri”, he hears from behind him, as Roger puts the kettle back on. The kitchen, like the rest of the place, is small and cramped, and Brian is almost leaning against the wall to keep from bumping into Roger. 

“It’s a glorified shoebox”, Brian tries to deflect. “The heater works when the stars align and I’ll challenge you to find a door that closes like it’s supposed to”. He wants to say it’s grey and depressing and sometimes feels like a vast, hollowed, echoing hole that makes him feel alone and anxious about being young and a little bit lost, but when he sees the genuine affection in Roger’s eyes the words die down and they seem completely untrue. 

His plants are thriving, his tea is poured, the narrowness feels cozy - all the cliché things he is only now discovering at 21. He is scared and thrilled by the rush, and a bit in love. His rational side tells him he’s acting maybe a little gullible in believing things can change that fast for him. On a second look, the grey doesn’t completely dull down, it’s true, but there are specks of color there.

Roger looks at him and Brian sees the enthusiastic gleam of confidence in the blue, and it’s like a promise, and its assurance is contagious. “I really, really, like it here”, he says again, and Brian discovers another type of smile, one that shows up way after Roger has woken up.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! At the middle of writing it kind of took a life of its own and the story went where it wanted, but I hope you enjoyed it, and if you want to, let me know what you think here or over at tumblr / meddows-taylor 
> 
> Happy Maylor Week everyone ♥!


End file.
